


The Two Lost Years

by SLUG_CAT624



Series: Slug-Cat's Crossovers and Fandom Fusions [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Department of Mysteries, Gen, Occlumency, OotP AU, Sherlock's Mind Palace, This instead of Serbia, Torture, post S2e3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 17:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20029234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLUG_CAT624/pseuds/SLUG_CAT624
Summary: “My lord,” they both mummer, and Voldemort’s bald head gleams in the blue light of the prophecies.  Cold crimson eyes turn to the captured man, slit-like nostrils flaring.  Voldemort takes the man’s chin in one claw like hand, echoing the scene in the graveyard nearly a year ago.  Like Potter, the man dosen’t flinch, and his silver-green eyes stare back.





	The Two Lost Years

At the junction of aisle 97, the man hung there limply, like a puppet on invisible strings, turning slowly. Bellatrix Lestrade prowled around the figure, cackling and mocking.

“Hello little freak.” She smiled a feral grin, her face inches from his when the man blinked his eyes open. Her mocking tones seemed to get lost in the endless aisles. “Freak, freak, freak,  _ freak!” _ She screams the last one, saliva dusting the man’s face. He sniffed disdainfully.

“Shourly you can do better than that. Or else the criminal classes really have fallen to a new low.” Bellatrix snarled, but retreated at the sound of another man’s voice. It was infuriating posh, and remind the captured man of his brother on a bad day.

“Now, now, we can’t kill him yet, Bellatrix. He of use to us.” Lucius Malfoy entered into field of view of the prisoner, sneering, looking every bit like a disdainful Mycroft when he was sent to deal with a ‘goldfish’.

_ “He insulted the Dark Lord! Called him a criminal! He should be- _ ” Bellatrix’s incoherent shrieking halted instantly as long, pale, spidery fingers stroked her filthy curls. Bellatrix knelt, kissing her lord’s robes. Malfoy bowed deeply.

“My lord,” they both mummer, and Voldemort’s bald head gleams in the blue light of the prophecies. Cold crimson eyes turn to the captured man, slit-like nostrils flaring. Voldemort takes the man’s chin in one claw like hand, echoing the scene in the graveyard nearly a year ago. Like Potter, the man dosen’t flinch, and his silver-green eyes stare back.

“Sherlock Holmes,” the high, cold voice sneers. “The only Muggle who can do magic.” The muggle doesn't react, his thin pale lips drawn in a thin line the only sign of pain. Voldemort pushes into the Muggle’s mind.

_ He stands in a dusty apartment crammed with books, skulls, smoking vials, and countless other things. It reminds Voldemort of the Room of Requirement, how newspapers are piled haphazardly, boxes stacked to the ceiling. There are key differences though- Muggle tech is scattered around the place, along with windows letting in sunlight and a view of London. _

_ With a flick of his wand, the wall closest to him blasts open, dust and loose papers swirling. Voldemort glides through. _

_ An elderly Muggle couple stand in front of him, crying and begging for him to spare their little William. Sneering with disgust, they end in green light. _

_ It’s a dark dingy office next, and a man with styled hair and an arrogant look on his face sits behind a desk. The man rises, twirling his umbrella. _

_ “Sherlock never did learn French.” the man says primly. Voldemort’s eyes narrow. When he’s blasted away with green light, the cool arrogance still lingers on his face. _

_ It’s a grandmotherly older woman he kills next in pursuing his goal. He shatters the tea set for good measure. _

_ He finds himself near a well in rolling hills, a manor in the distance. The dark haired girl looks up from the boy she was brutally stabbing with a knife, cocking her head. _

_ “Your not here to play.” _

_ He raises his wand- _

_ The girl steps aside. “Go,” she says, as she throws the little boy’s body down the well. “Tell Sherlock to come and play with me.” When he kills her, she’s smiling, embracing death with open arms. _

_ It’s brutally easy to kill the man at the pool. _

_ When he reaches the army doctor, the last defence before the Muggle’s soul, he stops. _

_ “Step aside,” he hisses, “and you will be spared.” _

_ The doctor glares at him. “No.” _

_ Voldemort cackles. “A pity. You could be a Weasly with that loyalty. Step aside, or I’ll kill your Potter.” _

_ The doctor stands. “No.” _

_ “AVADA KEDAVRA!” Green light fills his vision, and then the man is gone. _

_ But so is Sherlock Holmes. _


End file.
